[Congressional Record Volume 141, Number 200 (Friday, December 15, 1995)]
[Senate]
[Pages S18746-S18747]
From the Congressional Record Online through the Government Publishing Office [www.gpo.gov]




                 COMPUTER BETTORS CAN BE SURE OF LOSING

  Mr. SIMON. Mr. President, Richard Roeper, who is a regular columnist 
with the Chicago Sun-Times, recently had a column headed, ``Computer 
Bettors Can Be Virtually Sure of Losing,'' which I ask to be printed in 
the Record in full after my remarks.
  It is not simply an editorial column with that conclusion. Mr. Roeper 
goes into the specifics of what happened to him when he placed bets.
  Some people wonder why we should have a commission to look at the 
whole phenomenon of legalized gambling in the United States.
  It is spreading rapidly, and I don't know what we do about the 
phenomenon of computers and gambling, just as one example.
  The column follows:

              [From the Chicago Sun-Times, Dec. 10, 1995]

            Computer Bettors Can Be Virtually Sure of Losing

                          (By Richard Roeper)

       ``The technology will allow people to bet on anything they 
     choose to, and if it's legal, someone is sure to set up a 
     service.''--Bill Gates, discussing the potential for gambling 
     on the Internet in The Road Ahead.
       Sooner rather than later, you're probably going to be able 
     to sit at a computer in your home office and lose everything 
     you own, including the computer you're sitting at in your 
     home office.
       Such are the perils of gambling and the wonders of 
     technology.
       Lately there's been a lot of talk about setting up 
     ``virtual casinos'' on the information highway--onscreen 
     gambling emporiums that will be constructed on computer 
     networks so that you won't have to fly to Las Vegas or even 
     drive out to Aurora to play craps or roulette or poker. All 
     you'll have to do is log on, enter an access code, provide a 
     credit card number and bingo!
       Bingo. They'll probably have that, too.
       If you win, you'll receive electronic credits. If you lose, 
     you'll be charged on your next Visa or American Express 
     statement.
       This is a frightening concept. As it is, real casinos are 
     designed to provide a cushion between you and reality. The 
     absence of clocks, the lack of windows, the waitresses 
     providing you with complementary drinks, the conversion of 
     hundred-dollar bills into toyish black chips that you flick 
     around like bottle caps--all are tools to make it easier to 
     separate you from your money.
       And it works. Those huge, tacky, gleaming, zillion-dollar 
     palaces in Las Vegas are owned by the folks who are taking 
     the bets, not the folks who are making the bets. They build 
     the 5,000-room hotels and the cages for the white tigers and 
     the pirate ships and the fake pyramids with your money.
       Still, at least when you bet with chips, you're vaguely 
     aware that they represent real money. Watching a stack of 
     those chips shrink can be a painful experience; you can see 
     and feel some proof of the fact that you're losing.
       Others around you, including the employees of the casino 
     and your fellow gamblers, also provide some stimuli. But if 
     you're alone at a keyboard, there's no human element, nobody 
     to cluck in sympathy when you lose, or slide some chips your 
     way when you win. There's no sense that you're truly risking 
     your money. So it will be ridiculously, tragically easy for 
     the gambler to log on and lose a huge chunk of money in a 
     single session online.
       I put this theory to the test by playing a three-day round 
     of blackjack on my personal computer and keeping a record of 
     my ``wins'' and ``losses.''
       The game on my Windows '95 program is called ``Dr. 
     Blackjack.'' Little boxes at the top of the screen keep track 
     of wins and losses for each session, as well as a running 
     tally for a player.
       Monday, 8:43 a.m. I set the computer for $50 wagers and 
     tell the electronic dealer to deal--and our respective cards 
     appear on the screen almost instantly. With a click of the 
     mouse, I can then decide to stay, hit, split, double down, 
     even buy insurance against a dealer blackjack. As soon as I 
     make my decision, the computer plays out the dealer's hand in 
     literally the blink of an eye, much faster than the slickest 
     human dealer.
       By 9 a.m. I'm up $450, each winning hand accompanied by an 
     electronic deedle-deedle-dee! of joy, each losing hand 
     stomped on by a sharp buzzer.
       After two hours I'm at the $500 mark in winnings. A nice 
     round number, so I sign off. Don't have a stack of chips to 
     pocket, don't have a dealer to tip.
       Monday, 4:47 p.m. My plus-$500 total is waiting for me when 
     I sign on. I'm playing with the casino's money, so I up my 
     wager amount to $100 per hand.
       Monday, 5:03 p.m. Down $2,300. That is not a misprint. 
     During one stretch I lost nine hands in a row. A note appears 
     on my screen, telling me I've lost too much in one sitting 
     and should take a break.
     
[[Page S18747]]

       Somehow I think the virtual casinos of the future won't 
     have that feature.
       Monday, 11 p.m. I know I should stay away from the table, 
     but what the heck, I'm here to gamble, right? I'm down 
     $2,300, so it seems unwise to play for only $100 a hand; I'll 
     never get my money back. So I increase my wager to $200.
       Boom Boom Boom Boom, four winning hands in a row, including 
     a blackjack, and I'm down only $1,400 now, We're rolling.
       Tuesday, 12:35 a.m. It's been a long, hard struggle, but 
     I'm exactly even for the day. Of course, so is everyone else 
     who hasn't played a single hand of blackjack, and they didn't 
     spend four hours sitting at a computer terminal.
       Tuesday, 12:39 a.m. Down $800. Should have quit while I was 
     even.
       Tuesday, 6:30 a.m. Now betting $300 per hand. Occasionally, 
     when I make the incorrect decision, an electronic ``cheat 
     sheet'' appears on the screen and I'm asked if I'm sure this 
     is the move I want to make. What they're really saying is, 
     ``Split those 8's, bonehead.''
       Again I doubt this feature will exist when you're playing 
     for real money. And though I know it's for my benefit, it 
     gets annoying, and sometimes I stubbornly refuse to follow 
     the suggested strategy. I always lose those hands.
       Tuesday, 8 a.m. Had a good run. I'm up $1,600. Time for a 
     break.
       Tuesday, 6:05 p.m. What the heck, I won money this 
     afternoon and I'm winning money now and I'm ``going home'' 
     after tomorrow's session, so why not increase the bets to my 
     limit, $500?
       Tuesday 6:30 p.m. Doubled down with an 11 and drew a 10. 
     The dealer had a 17. That's a $1,000 win on a single hand. 
     I'm now up $4,850.
       Tuesday, 8:15 p.m. The computer is saying I've won too much 
     and a graphic appears that accuses me of counting cards! I'm 
     forced to sign off for the night. Up six grand and change.
       Wednesday, 7 a.m. In just a few minutes I've raised my 
     winnings to $11,350. If I could press a button that would 
     turn those numbers into real money, would I do it? Doubtful. 
     Why stop when you're hot?
       Wednesday, 8:50 p.m. Hovering at the $11,000 mark. Had a 
     great daytime session and I'm ready for more.
       Wednesday, 10:30 p.m. I'm looking at the figures on the 
     screen but I don't believe it. How can I be down $11,000? If 
     I hear that loser-buzzer one more time I'm going to smash 
     this keyboard. I want to increase my limit, but I can't. Five 
     hundred is the maximum.
       Wednesday, 11 p.m. All right, a comeback. I'm down only 
     $7,750. One hour left before my self-imposed midnight 
     deadline.
       Midnight. That's it, time is up. For the three days, I 
     ``lost'' $1,750--and I'm happy with that. I consider that a 
     real triumph.
       Which is pretty sick when you think about it.
       Sure, this was only a simulation. I'm sure I'd have better 
     self-control with real money, even at a virtual casino. But 
     it was scary enough watching those numbers change so quickly, 
     even though I knew they didn't mean anything.
       If virtual casinos ever became a reality, it'll be the 
     people on the other side of the computers who will be 
     smiling.

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